


Chemically Bonded

by Shanynde



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-05-29 14:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15074834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shanynde/pseuds/Shanynde
Summary: Seth Rollins wanted power and recognition. Roman Reigns wanted responsibility and loyalty. Dean Ambrose wanted respect and independence. Can they achieve them as members of Stephanie McMahon's FBI Task Force or will they tear each other apart?Pairings to be revealed as the story continues.





	1. Seth Rollins

It was all in all a regular day at the FBI office in Washington D.C. Special Agent Rollins sat in his cubicle, finishing his report concerning the recent bust. “Excuse me,” he looked up and saw a young intern standing in front of him. “Agent Rollins, please come with me. Now please,” he said as he started to walk away.

Seth stood and followed, unsure as to the purpose. He had just returned to Washington D.C from Alabama. The recent bust he had worked had been textbook, they had been tracing a group of bank robbers. The robbers had stolen from 3 different states and had the same MO. Seth had used his considerably good computer skills and mind to predict where they would hit next. He was right. They caught them as they were preparing to hit another bank. The only problem was that one of the men was trying to move some of the stolen merchandise and wasn’t with the group. Again, using technology and case files, Seth had tracked the man to a local gang. This gang had ties to white supremacists. He had no problem arresting the gang for harboring a fugitive and money laundering. A fight had resulted and two members of the gang ended up dead. Seth had beaten one of the men, by throwing him into a submission hold. The ginger haired man had gone limp and was arrested. He had spit in Seth’s direction when Seth pushed him into the cop car and yelled some fairly creative profanities at him. Seth was happy to watch the man get carted away. That man looked like a common thug, all brawn, no brain and couldn’t even put up a good fight. Gosh, why even bother? 

They came to a door. The intern opened the door and spoke. “Gentlemen,” the intern told the men waiting, “This is Special Agent Seth Rollins. You’ll be briefed in a few moments. Please help yourself to coffee.” With that the intern walked away, leaving Seth to look inside. What he saw, shocked him.There, sat the perp, his legs resting on the table; wearing the same outfit that Seth had collared him in and grinning rather manically as he observed him. The perp had been expecting him, Seth realized. 

“Hey Princess,” the man smirked, as he twirled the handcuffs around on his finger. His eyes stared at Seth. It was like he looked into Seth’s very soul and found it wanting. “Friendly piece of advice. Next time make sure the charges stick before taking off. You never know what tricks a criminal will have up his sleeve. Or her, I’m not being sexist. You want to double check for everyone, regardless of gender. Just an idea.” 

Seth was angry, “I’m calling security.”

“Now, hold up. That’s a nice shiny badge you’ve got there. It looks just like mine.” And with that, the supposed criminal pulled out a FBI Badge out of his pocket. “Special Agent Dean Ambrose at your service.”

Seth was gobsmacked. “I don’t understand. They didn’t tell me that someone was undercover.”

Ambrose snorted, “That’s precious. You think they tell you everything. It’s the first rule of being undercover. Only tell those who absolutely need to know that you’re a cop. If not, someone could spill the tea and I would end up dead. You seriously think you could actually beat me in a fight? All I’d have to do is pull that long hair of yours and you’d go down.” He seemed to find that funny.

“I don’t think any of us should be commenting on hair, so let’s all play nice, now,” the other man said, without looking up from his coffee cup. Seth observed him, he was tall and built like a football player. 6’3-6’4, mixed, Seth would have guessed, some sort of Islander. He had long hair that was in a tight bun, and wore a slick blue suit and a skinny tie. He wore a wedding ring and a watch. He obviously cared about his appearance, and he wanted other people to notice him. How could you not, Seth thought to himself? The man commanded attention. 

“I’m not nice,” Ambrose shot back.

“No, you’re a regular Han Solo,” the other man shot back finally looking at him.

“Does that make you Chewbacca and the Princess over there can be C3PO?” 

To Seth’s surprise, the other man started to laugh. He had a heavy laugh, low and guttural. “My wife would say, given the amount of hair I shed, yes. I’m Roman, Roman Reigns,” he held out his hand to the perp. Ambrose took it. “Nice to meet you.”

“Ambrose, legs off my table, now.” A voice said from the doorway. Seth turned and for the second time today was speechless. Would this day stop with the surprises? 

Standing in front of them was Unit Chief Stephanie McMahon. Her father, Vince, had been the head of the FBI and had retired a few years earlier. Everyone knew about Stephanie McMahon, although half of it was built on rumors and tall tales. 15 years ago, as a college student, she had been kidnapped by a man that her father was chasing. She managed to escape and had joined the FBI after she finished school. Very few people thought that she would be a good agent, but she surprised everyone. She had risen in the ranks, ruthless and fiercely loyal of her agents. Because of her famous father, she had never been able to go undercover, but she organized missions and ran point from numerous field offices. She had her favorites, and if you were lucky enough to impress her, then your career would get put on the fast track. Ambrose didn’t move. If anything, he seemed annoyed. Seth again was incredulous, you do not ignore Stephanie McMahon. Did he have a death wish?

“Ambrose,” Agent McMahon said again.

“I think I’ve earned the right to put my legs up and relax. I’ve been undercover for 5 months with a group of stupid white supremacists and I don’t get a heads up about a bust. Next thing I know, agents are storming the place and they start shooting. Thankfully, none of them can shoot worth a damn and Princess here is throwing me into the back of a car, I’m in jail for 12 hours and then I’m brought here. So, what’s going on?” 

Agent McMahon gave him a look to see if he was finished. She gave a heavy sigh as if she was not used to explaining her actions, “You got pulled out because I said so. Rollins and his team wouldn’t have made the bust without my okay.” She replied curtly, “You weren’t told and were put in jail to keep your cover. Now that your complaint has been noted, I am telling you to put your legs down and act like an agent not some raving lunatic.”

Ambrose surprisingly did as she said with a respectful nod in her direction. 

She turned her attention to Seth. “Please sit.” She said, and Seth, who had no choice but to obey sat next to Roman. “I know you all just finished assignments, but time is of the essence and you each have a, shall we say, unique skill set.” Agent McMahon pulled up a picture of two men, and began to explain, “Last night, a Seven-11 camera caught Kevin Owens and Sami Zayn buying food in Duluth, Minnesota. Owens and Zayn escaped from prison 3 months ago and this is the first we’ve seen of them. I’m assembling a task force to find them and take them back to prison. You, gentlemen, are that task force.” 

Seth’s attitude immediately brightened. This was the opportunity he was waiting for. A chance to impress the top brass and prove his loyalty. Pretty soon, he would have his own team and then his own division. One day he would run the FBI. Some would call that ambition, he called it extreme goal setting. Reach for the stars and all that shit. He knew what he wanted and it was to be the best and for everyone to know it.

Reigns spoke, "Generally, this is a job for the US Marshalls. Why are we getting pulled in?"

"The US Marshalls think there is a mole in their organization. They caught Owens and Zayn escaping once and yet they both escaped again. We've been given three days and if we can't find them, the Marshalls are going to call in a national wide hunt for them." Agent McMahon explained.

"Three days?" 

"I have faith in you three, you'll get the job done. And if not, well, you won't like the consequences. Rollins,” she turned to look at him. “Find any electronic footprint you can and learn from these two. Figure out why how they got there and what their next move it. They broke out of a prison in Colorado, so they are heading North.”

“Heading to Canada?” Reigns speculated.

“If they were heading to Canada, they would have gotten there before now. Something is keeping them here. Reigns,” she looked at the giant, “You’ll take lead. Use those tracking skills that made you famous in Iraq. Make sure Ambrose doesn’t get killed.” Reigns nodded and took the file from her hand. 

“Your lack of faith is astounding Steph. You know what survives a nuclear explosion? Twinkies, cockroaches,”

“And Dean Ambrose, I’m aware.” Agent McMahon finished for him. “But you’ve already lost 3 of your 9 lives, and I would prefer it if you didn’t take any more reckless chances. Just do what you do best and bring them in quietly. The last thing the country needs is word of jail breakers getting on the news.” 

“Got it Boss.” 

“Reigns, your team. Good luck. Your plane is getting prepped now. Goodbye gentlemen, good luck and do not let me down.” Agent McMahon said as she left the room. 

Ambrose grunted, "No pressure, right?"

Reigns looked over at him, "You called her Steph. What did you expect to happen?"

"Honestly, to get kicked off the team." Seth couldn't believe what he was hearing. Why what was Ambrose thinking? This man was crazy, and he had to trust him to have his back. No way was that going to happen. "Nah, we have a special relationship. She puts me in dangerous situations and I escape from them and get to bitch about it until she puts me in a new situation. So, that's me. What about you?" He turned to Reigns, "Any of the rumors true about you?

Reigns shook his head, "Only about 1/10th."

Ambrose nodded, "I can work with that. Call the orders, Big Dog."

“Wheels up in two hours. Rollins find out everything you can on them. I have to make a call. Ambrose, go shower. You stink.”

Ambrose smiled and stood, “A shower sounds great. This’ll be fun. See ya soon, Princess.” He said referring once again to Seth. 

“Don’t call me Princess,” Seth called after him as he walked away. 

“Don’t take it personally.” Reigns told him as he started to dial his phone, “If rumors are correct, Ambrose doesn’t always play well with others. But he’s apparently amazing at undercover work. Just like you’re a computer and tactical wizard,” Seth looked up surprised that Reigns knew about him. “Hopefully, we get this done and don't kill each other in the process. I'll see you in a few."

Seth was curious. He had a lot to research. Find out everything about Zayn and Owens and figure out his new team. How had Reigns known about him? He had never heard of either of them before. But he wasn't the best for nothing. 2 hours was not that long, so he had better get to work.


	2. Roman Reigns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman's Pov

To Roman, every day was normal. It didn’t matter how bizarre, strange or violent…normalcy was a state of mind. If you expect everything to go haywire, then it is pleasant when things go well. High hopes through low expectations. So, now it was normal to be on a plane flying to Minnesota with two other FBI Agents with the directive to track down two escapees and bring them to justice. Like he told his wife, just another day at the office. Still, he had a feeling these two new partners would change his definition of normalcy. Ambrose seemed intent on driving Rollins mad. While both he and Rollins had arrived in slacks and button up shirts, Ambrose showed up in what looked like sweats, a sweatshirt and a leather jacket. Roman had watched Seth bristle as Ambrose had walked past him, as if his unprofessionalism was rubbing off on him. As the plane took off, Ambrose started to blast Jonny Cash from his headset and put on a pair of cheap 5 dollar sunglasses intent on ignoring them. 

When they reached cruising altitude, Roman figured it was time to review the data and make a game plan for finding two criminals who had evaded capture for three months. He tapped Ambrose’s leg and indicated him to pay attention. Ambrose took off his glasses and headphones.

“Alright, Rollins, what do you have for us?”

“Kevin Owens and Sami Zayn were both at Colorado State Penitentiary. Owens was sent there for murder, he was convicted of killing two men in a drive by. He made a deal and got 35 years. Zayn was sentenced to 6 years for theft.”

“From the looks, it seemed that they had little in common,” Roman said.

Seth shook his head, “You would think that, but they were bunkmates for 4 years. According to prison records, they were always together. In 2017, a fight broke out at the prison and both were sent to solidary for 3 months. They broke out of prison in 2018, and the marshals captured them the next day. They somehow managed to escape.”

“Define somehow,” Ambrose interjected.

“From the camera footage, it looks like Owens put one of the marshal’s in a chokehold and then then Zayn turned off the cameras. The marshals were tied up and a cop car was stolen. It was recovered a few hours later, but Zayn and Owens were long gone. That was three months ago.”  
“It’s interesting that Owens, a known killer didn’t kill any of the marshals.” Roman noted.

“Also interesting that they’ve managed to go undiscovered until recently.” Ambrose added.

“Any family?”

“For Zayn, no. Owens had a kid, but we have people watching them in Colorado. No contact has been made from the looks of it.” 

“And what were they driving at the 7/11?”

“They parked the car out of camera focus. But they weren’t wearing hats or anything. Plus this was weird, watch this.” Seth pulled up the footage. At the end of the purchase, both Zayn and Owens looked straight at the camera and winked.

“Did they just wink at the camera?” Roman asked. "That's not normal behavior for fugitives."

"They could be taunting us. Problem is, no one has seen them since and all the roads are being watched." Rollins continued. "This was taken 15 hours ago. They also said something that spooked the cashier. He called 911 the moment they left."

Ambrose pulled forward, “Did he say what he was concerned about?”

Rollins shook his head, “We’ll have to ask him.”

“Trust me, I will. Right,” Roman took charge, “Rollins, good work. I want you to go to the police station. They’re expecting you. Dig through any and all footage of the town. Try to figure out how long they’ve been here and if they are still in Minnesota or if they left.” Seth nodded.  
“Ambrose, you’re with me. We’ll go interview the shop owner. Try to figure out how he knew something was up with those two.”

“Alright.”

“You might want to change.” Roman knew they needed to make a good impression and Ambrose wearing those clothes would not scream confidence. 

“How long till we land?”

“About 2 hours.”

“I’ll change in an hour and a half. Till then, don’t wake me.” He put his glasses on and within a few minutes was sleeping. Roman and Rollins wisely spent the next hour getting prepared for the case. An hour and a half later, Ambrose woke up, stretched and went into the restroom with his go bag.  
When he came out, Roman had to admit that he was impressed. Ambrose was wearing a pair of slacks, a nice Henley shirt and had his hair slicked back. He looked like an FBI agent. 

Ambrose laughed as he sat back down, “You don’t have to say it. I know I look good.”

Rollins shook his head, “Please be serious. We have a job to do.”

“Oh, really?” He asked sarcastically. “I had no idea, Princess. I thought I was flying to Barbados.”

“Can you be serious for once?”

“Once something happens for me to be serious about, then sure.”

“Both of you, stop.” Roman commanded. Gosh, it was like dealing with 5-year olds. “We’re touching down any moment. Ambrose, shut up and stop antagonizing Rollins. Rollins, give him space.” His men in Iraq and other FBI teams had never gotten on each other’s nerves like this.

Both sides were pacified and when the plane landed, Rollins got in a squad car to go to the police station and Ambrose and Roman got into a standard FBI car. It was silent as they drove, but Roman felt as team leader he needed to nip this personality conflict in the bud.

“You need to be nicer to Rollins. He’s younger and hasn’t done anything undercover. It looks like he’s used to playing by the rules.”

Ambrose scoffed, “Until Princess can prove his weight, I’m not pulling punches.” 

Now Roman was confused. “Why do you think he’s not pulling his weight? His information has checked out and he has a good arrest record.”

“Look, the guy’s talented. He’s smart, built and has ambition. He also thinks he’s smarter than everyone else in the room. Attitude like that can get you killed and I’m not going to step in front of a bullet for arrogance. Respect, yes. Arrogance, hell no.”

“I could be just as arrogant,” Roman countered. “But you need to get your own attitude in check.”

Ambrose turned and looked Roman up and down. “Nah,” he said finally. “You’re built to protect others, not yourself.”

“So sure of that?”

“Everything I’ve heard about you is that you’re a good man. A bit standoffish, but a good man.” For the first time since the conversation started, Ambrose looked ashamed, well, almost. It was odd. “Last year, you were next to me at the shooting range. You were wearing a tee shirt and you shot with your right hand and with your left. You kept changing and your left side was stronger than your right. I couldn’t help but notice your tattoos.

“Lots of Samoans have them,” Roman explained, sidestepping the issue.

Ambrose continued on, “They do. It’s usually to honor your family or because they look badass. Today though, you carried your bags with your right hand, it's more dominant. So last year, you were working on your left hand because your right side, the side with your tattoo was weaker. And, if I didn’t know better, I’d think that those tattoos were used to mask some sort of scar tissue. Like a bullet in the shoulder, or from some sort of shrapnel from a bomb. Stuff that only happened if you were pulling someone away from danger.”

There was no way that Ambrose could have known that. He rarely talked about what happened. No one, outside of family and a few members of the FBI knew. Had Ambrose hacked into his files? Had McMahon given him access? Was nothing sacred anymore? Who the hell was this guy and who did he think he was? He stared and Ambrose and curled his fists. What other secrets had he uncovered? Did he do this to everyone he met? Analyze them and steal their secrets?

They stared at each other for a moment. Neither was willing to fold. Finally, Ambrose bowed his head and shook it.

“But hey, what do I know?” His tone turned jovial again. “Now me, I could never get a tattoo. See needles scare the shit out of me. It reminds me of my childhood, and trust me dude, you don’t want to go there.”

Roman saw what was happening. Ambrose had unearthed one of Roman’s secrets and offered one in exchange. 

“I can get fake ones but it doesn’t always work with being undercover. I need to give people something to remember but also something that makes it hard to trace me. One fellow remembers a guy with this big red beard, another remembers my eyes, I can hide that. But I can’t hide a tattoo. They usually mean something and anyone with a good enough eye can figure it out.”

“And you have a good eye.” Roman observed.

“I have the best eye. And I’ll use it to figure out why Owens and Zayn found their way here. But,” he conceded, “my eye is sometimes wrong. Not often, but sometimes. I’ll play nice with Rollins and be respectful of you.”

“See that you do.” Roman said as they turned the corner to the 7/11. "It's showtime."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think, or if there is anything I can do to improve. Thank you.


	3. Dean Ambrose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. Please let me know what you think of this.

There were so many things that did not make sense to Dean as he and Reigns drove to the 7/11. How on earth did the cashier call the police and why would Zayn and Owens wink at the camera? It didn’t make sense unless, “Either cops are on Zayn and Owen’s payroll or,” Dean started only to be interrupted by Reigns who finished his thought, “Someone higher up is protecting them.”

“But is higher up a cop or a crime lord?” Dean mused. 

“I’m not sure, but neither would be good.” Reigns speculated, “I’m calling Rollins.” Reigns picked up the phone and put it on speaker. “Am I on speaker?” He asked when Rollins picked up.

“No, it’s just me.”

“Alright, here’s what I want you to do. Do deep research on this 7/11. I want to know who owns it. We’ll call you back in a few. Don’t call us, we’re about to go in. Oh,” Reigns continued, “don’t tell them how many other agents are with you.”

“You think someone here is dirty?”

“I don’t know, we’ll know more later. Reigns out.” He hung up and they pulled into a neighborhood a block from the 7/11. 

It was obvious to both that they were going to have to play this one little differently. Dean was in his element. He could morph into whatever he needed too. The problem was that if he walked in by himself, he was inviting trouble. He’d have to trust Reigns.

“What are you thinking?” Reigns asked him.

“Here,” Dean commanded. “Take your tie off, unbutton the first two buttons on your shirt, and roll your sleeves up to the elbow. I’ll play the asshole criminal, you play the silent bodyguard. When we walk in, keep your eyes on the owner and lock the front door,” he ordered; as he pulled his at his go bag. 

“Have you done something like this before,” he asked.

“I’m good at being the strong and silent guy,” Reigns replied as he pulled his hair out of his tight bun. It was long and curly and it made Reigns look bigger if that was possible. Reigns unbuttoned two buttons and put on a pair of sunglasses. He definitely did not look like an FBI Agent, but something was missing.

Alright, Dean could work with that. In his go bag, he had a few items. He pulled a small hooped earring out for himself and a gold chained necklace for Reigns. He slipped his leather jacket on, ruffled his hair and took a deep breath, allowing the façade to fall over him.  
“Do you have a picture of Zayn and Owens?” Reigns pulled one out and Dean folded it into his leather jacket. He handed Reigns the gold necklace and Reigns put it on.

“If he’s working with anyone, he’ll call or text the second we leave.”

“I don’t have tech for intercepting texts.” Reigns admitted, “but I’ll text for Rollins to hack into the security system.”

“Can he do that?”

“We’re about to find out.” Reigns said as he sent a text to Rollins and drove to the 7/11. They looked at each other and nodded.

“Alright,” Dean started to get out of the car, “And go with your Iraq walk not your Fed walk.”

Roman nodded and followed. The few customers inside noticed them immediately. Dean put his best, “I’m an asshole, get out and don’t look at me” face and within moments everyone but the cashier walked out. Nice to know that he still had it.

Dean gestured to Reigns and Reigns stood in front of the doors and quietly locked them before turning. Reigns looked like a silent giant, willing to tear you apart limb from limb. He looked tough and frankly terrifying. Dean was impressed. Looked like the Big Dog could scare people if he wanted. The tattoos helped. The cashier gulped as Dean walked up to him. He could see that Reigns and Dean both had weapons. Dean hoped that me was making the right call.

He pulled out the picture of Zayn and Owens. 

“These two come in here recently?” He gruffly demanded. He made himself look bigger and more intense. This was the key to pretending to be a bad guy, you had to look like you were dangerous without saying much. You had to play on other people’s fear of what you could do and hopefully, that would be enough to get them to talk. 

“Who wants to know?” The cashier asked nervously, his eyes darting from Dean to Reigns.

“Eyes on me,” Dean commanded. “You don’t want to look at him for too long. He might get offended and I can’t guarantee that you’d walk away from that. Answer the question.”

“I already told the cops that I didn’t know who they were and that they didn’t say anything.”

“Then how did you know they were trouble,” Dean found himself sharply asking.

“I,” the cashier did not look comfortable. “The cops already took my statement,” he tried to evade the question.

“And I’m not a cop. So, don’t give me the same song and dance you gave them,” Dean shot back with a manic look in his eye. 

The man looked anxious. He started to sweat and stammer. “Um, yeah, they were here. Last night. They bought two lotto tickets, some beef jerky and two Gatorades.”

“Where did they go after?” Dean demanded.

“I don’t know.”

At that statement, Reigns walked over and stood by Dean. He started to fiddle with the lighters next to the cash machine. He picked one up and started to flick it. A small flame burst out and Reigns gave the man a gruesome smile as he opened his jacket for a cigarette. As he pulled out the cigarette, the cashier was in plain view of Reign’s gun.

The cashier turned and turned off the video cameras. He was sweating profusely now and was close to hyperventilating. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Dean smiled at Reigns and Reigns puffed a puff of smoke towards the cashier. “Oh this guy,” Dean put his hand on Reign’s shoulder, “He wouldn’t hurt a fly. Now me on the other hand...” he let the insinuation register on the cashier’s face.

“I don’t know where they are.”

“But you know who does.”

“If they were in town, Jeff Hardy would know. Hardy runs a music store across town and he knows everything that’s going on. Please don’t tell the cops or Hardy I told you.”

Dean smiled. It was not pleasant. He took the lighter from Reign’s hands and put it back on the counter. “Now see, that wasn’t so hard. Hey don’t mention this to anyone, alright? Thanks,” he looked down. “Doug.”

Dean and Reigns turned and walked to the car. Reigns, reading the situation correctly, got into the driver’s seat. Dean passed him the keys and they drove away. For the next few moments, they were silent, watching to see if they were being followed. When it became apparent that they were safe, Reigns noticed a local library and pulled into the parking lot. 

“We’re screwed. He turned off the feed. I’m calling Rollins,” Reigns said as he pulled out his phone and dialed Rollins. “Talk to me Rollins.” 

Rollins picked up the phone. “So, what I’ve found is that the 7/11 is owned by a guy named Matt Hardy.”

“Any relation to Jeff Hardy?” Reigns asked.

“Um let me look,” Dean heard Rollins typing away on the keyboard, “Yes, his brother.” Reigns and Dean looked at each other confused.

“So is this a brother feud or are they working together?”

“They own three businesses together.” Rollins mentioned, “Two bars and a music store called Woken.”

“Alright, thanks Rollins. We’ve got to do something and then I’ll meet you at HQ. Ambrose has something he has to do, I’ll explain later.” He hung up. But before he said anything, Dean already had a plan formed.

Dean’s knees were bouncing, he couldn’t sit still for a long time unless he had too. “None of this makes sense, man. They’re sending us to meet with someone who could have told the cops but didn’t. Sounds like something illegal.”

“How should we play this?” Reigns asked.

“I’ll uber to one of the bars near Hardy’s store. Do a little digging. Once you and Rollins get the info I need, text me and I’ll meet you somewhere.”

Reign’s nodded. “That sounds like a sound plan. Something isn’t meshing though. It’s strange how easy the cashier gave up that information. I’m worried you’re walking into a trap.”

Dean agreed with Roman. Everything up to this point was too easy. “Yeah, I get that. I’ll keep my eye out. Unless you have a better idea?” He offered.

“Rollin’s and I will do some surveillance and try to get this figured out. Don’t go in unless you have confirmed with me.”

“You’re my handler on this, Big Dog. This is just an observation night. I can blend in.”

“Alright, but be careful.”

“Thanks, Reigns,” Dean said as he started to get out of the car.

“Roman.” Reigns called after him.

“What?” Dean was confused.

“Call me Roman.” He said smiling.

An olive branch. Dean inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. He was so worried that he had overstepped his bounds with Reigns that day. First, with the observation about his shoulder, he probably shouldn’t have said that. No one likes their flaws to be pointed out. Dean knew that he had a problem with blurting out observations and because of his crazy mind, he remembered them for years. It was why he was so good at undercover. He just let the observations become part of him. But, unfortunately, those nervous ticks he had made it hard to make friends in the real world. He kept to himself mostly and while he was okay with that…sometimes it was lonely. 

And Reigns? The man was loyal to a fault. Everyone knew that. He was a good man, qualified and wanted to go places. Dean knew his family was in law enforcement, this was probably a calling for Reigns. For Dean, though. This was his way out of the gutter, a way to atone for mistakes of the past. To honor the two men who pulled him out of the fray. In any other scenario, they wouldn't have meshed. But Reigns, no, Roman, the leader was backing his play. He trusted Dean, and to Dean that meant everything. 

“Call me Dean,” he smiled back. “Or anything but that, I kind of hate that name.” He added as he closed the door.

 

TBC...


End file.
